


Revisiting Agape

by katabulo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Yurio, M/M, Puberty, The gang are back in Hasetsu, This is domestic af, Three Years Later, Viktor is retired at 30, Yuri's an emotional mess, Yuuri still has a season in him, muslim otabek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9016609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katabulo/pseuds/katabulo
Summary: It was only a matter or time before Yuri's growth spurts and developments started affecting his abilities. Yuri knew that. He hadn't realised just how awful it would make him feel. His recent season has been a disaster of mistakes and injuries from over exertion.Yakov sends Yuri out to join Viktor and Yuuri back in Hasetsu, in the hope that the couple can help him grow comfortable in his body again. As it turns out, they may not be the heroes holding the key to his confidence...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!! I'm not celebrating this year but I hope everyone who is has an amazing day!
> 
> I've seen quite a few fics where Otabek waits patiently for Yuri to reach an older age, but I personally like the idea that he simply isn't romantically interested in Yuri until he is physically and mentally maturer. In a "oh shit he's hot when he's taller than me and has fully developed muscles" kind of way.

It wasn’t very common for Viktor to receive messages from Yakov nowadays. Since that the skater was officially retired at 30, there was little reason for them to communicate during the season.

Nevertheless, if a message demanded that Viktor call Yakov as soon as possible, Viktor was happy to oblige.

“Vitya. How is business?”

“Hello, Yakov! It's decent. Is this too early? You don’t sound too well.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine. I was up for a while last night.”

“Did something happen?” Yakov was not the type to stay up late, unless there was an urgent problem.

“Have you been keeping up with Yura’s season?”

“Ah…” Viktor had indeed. Unsurprisingly to many, their little Yuri had been growing fast. While his frame was still on the small side, he had experienced several growth spurts and was now around Yuuri's height. Although he was still very pretty, the title of Russian Fairy was seldom used. It seemed the allegory of a beautiful monster was spreading outside of Japan in its place.

His second season had been even more successful than his senior debut, with more gold around his neck than ever. However, at some point this season, the strain on his growing body had affected his performances. 

Viktor could remember his own experiences with puberty and how often he'd had to change his programs and training routines to avoid serious injuries. Despite the stress, it had been one of the most exciting periods in his career. His own body constantly threw him off guard with both new limitations and possibilities. His drive for surprise had been fulfilling itself and he'd found a way to enjoy it as best he could.

He doubted that Yuri, who always made a point to understand and push his limits, was having as pleasant a time.

“When the two of you ran off three years ago, your husband’s place seemed to help him. Would you be able to have him over for a few weeks? I’ll send you his recommended training schedule and diet.”

Viktor grinned at his former coach's use of 'husband.' The old man was trying to seduce him. “And his choreography?”

“It hasn’t been created yet. But if you take on the job, we can discuss it later.” Viktor was going to coach Yuuri in Hasetsu this year, just like their first season together. However, he doubted he would find the career interesting after Yuuri’s retirement. Instead, he was focusing on choreography and developing training routines. He hadn’t realised how interesting it could be to learn about the lives of others! He loved working with skaters and finding ways to tell their stories with new programmes.

“I’m working with another skater now, but we’ll see how long Yura wants to stay.”

“Wonderful. I’ll take that as an invite. Thank you, Vitya.”

\--- 

Yuri grumbled about the arrangement all the way to the airport.

He wasn’t against revisiting Hasetsu, but this impromptu vacation seemed like the worst thing to do after such a mess of a season. Sure, he’d reached the Grand Prix finals, but he didn’t feel as if he was sailing ahead of everyone like before. He couldn't even manage the podium this year. He was glad the season was ending.

And he hated his body. He hated how little he could truly bend now. Even if he was still one of the most flexible men in the Senior division, he didn’t feel as graceful and free on the ice as he had before. His stamina and strength had improved considerably, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the new developments.

It showed in several of his performances. His jumps were better than ever, but his step sequences were practically amateur points-wise. He was growing to resent skating and at this point, he wasn’t sure how Yakov planned to help him, apart from this haphazard vacation.

Lilia was no longer helping him, so he'd moved all his stuff out of her home a few months ago. Part of the problem was the increasing number of arguments between her and Yakov, but she also admitted that she was no longer the right choice. His strengths were moving far into the jumps, which she couldn’t help with. He still practised ballet, of course, but her admittance that he could no longer even aim for the prima ballerina had stung.

He'd sold his soul to her, dammit. Now he wasn’t sure what exactly he was putting his blood and sweat into. More gold? Had that ever been his main drive? He skated to send a message, whether to Viktor, Pork Cutlet, his loved ones… what more did he have to say? How could he make it _his_ message, when he was losing so much of himself?

Shit. Perhaps Yakov had the right idea about sending him on a break.

Yuuri’s sister was at the airport to meet him. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she searched the gate, her eyes pointed downward.

“Hey, I’m here.”

“Wh- Oh! God, Yuuri wasn’t joking about your height,” said Mari, her jaw open as she looked at him. “Nice to see you again, Yurio.”

“Yeah… good to see you too.”

She grinned at his reply, “That’s the nicest response you’ve ever given me. You’re all grown up, huh?”

Yuri scoffed, “I’m eighteen, what else would you expect?”

They continued the small talk as she brought him to the car and drove him to Yutopia. Her and Yuuko’s family were all doing well, with the triplets finally allowed onto the ice. Mari herself was having fun getting free food with online dating and Minako… well, whatever was happening in her love life, she was keeping very quiet about it. Mari was sure she had fallen hard for someone.

“Yuuri said he thinks you know the guy Viktor’s working with. I can’t remember his name, but I think he’s from Kazakhstan?”

“...Otabek?”

“Yeah, that’s it!”

“Yeah, I know him.” Recently, he hadn’t managed to spend much time with his best friend outside of Skype chats and texting. The only time their paths had crossed had been the Grand Prix finals, but Yuri had been so stressed about his program that he didn’t accept the invites out. Perhaps he should've been more surprised that he was here in Japan, but his friend had been interested in visiting for a while since Yuri brought it up so often. Viktor Nikiforov offering choreographies was as good a reason as any, supposed Yuri.

Well, maybe he could make up for his neglect while they were at Hasetsu together. He honestly owed the guy after using him as a vessel for his bitching, just to avoid him during the time they could meet.

Yutopia hadn’t changed much over the years. It still felt small, cramped and slightly stuffy, but it was cosy and had a pleasant smell of soap and freshly baked food. Yuri sat on the couch with a relieved sigh, stretching out his legs.

“Yurio!” cheered Viktor, jumping onto the teen, “Welcome! How are you? How’s Yakov and the others? How’s Russia?”

“Uh, g-get off me, you oaf.” Viktor had put on some weight, fantastic. “It’s all good… Vitya, I said stop!”

“Hey, Yurio,” greeted Yuuri, chuckling from the doorway. “How’s our favourite punk?”

“He… can’t _breathe,”_ grunted out Yuri, eventually pushing Viktor off. “Where do I sleep? I’m going to unpack my stuff.”

Yuuri hummed, “You can sleep in the room you were before, if you like. We have another guest here, so Viktor’s old room isn’t an option.”

“Oh, right!” Viktor snapped his fingers. “We need to introduce you!”

“I already know him, idiot! You seriously forgot?!” Yuri waved Viktor off.

“Wow, you do?”

“He does, as you know...” Otabek walked into the living room, his expression neutral as ever.

“Hey, Beka,” said Yuri, smiling nervously, “Nice to see you.”

“Oh, _now_ it is?”

“Hey!” Yuri pouted up at him, “I knew you were still upset. It’s why you hardly messaged me, isn’t it?”

“Don’t make that face at me… Yurio.”

“Oh, no way, you’re not calling me that. I don’t like-”

“Why, because I’m not close enough to you to call you that?”

“The fuck? You’re closer to me than anyone else, you idiot!”

“Then how come I’ve been hearing all this domestic shit the last few days from your ‘parents?’”

“What? _Parents?”_ What was he…?

Oh.

Yuri turned to Yuuri and Viktor, his expression dark. “Is this your fault, assholes?”

Yuuri jumped and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, sorry. We didn’t mean to make Otabek jealous. We just thought-”

Otabek gaped as Viktor hid a laugh behind his hand, “What? No, I’m not-”

“Oi, don’t make fun of him!” Yuri shot up, standing next to Otabek. He blinked at Yuri’s sudden side switching, while Viktor only snickered more, seemingly wrapped up in his own private joke.

Yuuri didn’t reply to the punk’s challenge and eventually the teen deflated. He flopped back onto the couch, dragging Otabek with him. “How’s your choreography going along, Beka?”

Otabek took out his phone and showed a video of Yuuri performing what seemed to be the short program. “This is what I’m going to take back to my coach. We’re working on the free skate now.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow, scowling, “Most of it looks kinda stiff.” If Viktor had fucked Otabek over...

“It looks better when Beka performs it,” replied Viktor, more serious now that they were talking about his work. “There’s supposed to be a level of strain until the climax. It represents his training.”

“Huh. Then what’s with that graceful part near the beginning?”

Otabek’s head was on Yuri’s shoulder, so the blond couldn’t see his expression, but the poke on his chest was enough to make him blush. Otabek… wanted to represent him in his programme?

“Let me see it again,” he demanded, taking the phone, “…That’s from Allegro Appassionato, right? Why that one?”

Otabek looked up at him, “It’s the one that reminded me of when we were in the same class.”

Viktor grinned. “He has this tiny smile on his face when he’s immersed in the segment. It’s so cute!”

“Viktor!” scolded Yuuri, “How do you plan to keep bringing in clients if you make fun of all of them?!”

“Aw, but it’s just Yurio! I’m sure he’ll demand to watch before Beka leaves, anyway.” Yuri rolled his eyes, but he noticed that Otabek was pointedly looking away from him.

He leaned in to whisper in the other’s ear, “You’ll let me watch, right?”

Yuri smiled as Otabek nodded slowly. Perhaps, if he could spend more time with his best friend rather than the living embarrassments that were Viktor and Yuuri, this could turn out to be a break after all.

\--- 

Yuri was back in the room he had taken the first time he was here. He was pretty sure that Pork Cutlet and Old Man had only gotten _worse_ since he'd seen them off at the airport in Moscow. The nostalgia was getting to them. At least Otabek found them entertaining enough, although he'd always been a romantic behind his resting bitch face.

Although, perhaps Yuri shouldn't be so harsh on them. He'd spent about ten minutes lost in thought as he stood in the room, his suitcases untouched. He really had been an unpleasant child, hadn't he? The room was perfectly fine, yet his memories were so bitter. The buzz of chatter outside wasn't nearly as loud as he remembered and even when mostly empty, there was a familiar cosiness in here that brought him back to the day he'd first arrived in Hasetsu.

And yet…

“Yo, what’s the mat here for?” he called out, opening the door.

Otabek shot up, “Sorry, that’s mine. I’ll take it out.”

“Huh?” Viktor blinked at him, “Is there a problem with your room? Why did you-?”

“Yuuri said it was okay to pray in here.”

“Ohhh, I see-”

“Oh shit!” Yuri grabbed Otabek’s shoulders, looking concerned, “Do you need the room, then?! I’ll sleep in the living room if you like!”

Otabek’s eyes softened and he squeezed Yuri’s arm, “Don’t worry, Yura. The other Yuuri felt guilty because the dog jumped onto me while I was praying. I don’t need a separate room.”

“Oh… if you’re sure, then. Where is Makkachin, anyway?”

“He's out on a walk,” explained Viktor, “He’ll be happy to see you, Yurio!”

_“Yuriooooo!”_

Yuuri’s parents walked through, having closed the onsen for the day. The next few hours became a blur of reunions as Yuuri had apparently invited everyone around for the evening. Even Minami had turned up, whom Yuri had only heard of before in passing. He was aware that he was one of Japan’s biggest figure skaters, although he competed in ice dancing instead of singles. Yuri couldn’t help but marvel at how… small he was, even at twenty years.

Perhaps he was a little jealous at that.

‘Happy’ was an understatement regarding Makkachin’s response to seeing Yuri. Even as he was getting on in his years, he was still able to jump around like an insatiable puppy when ecstatic. His joy was only matched by the triplets, who had probably only become bigger terrors over the years, if Yuuko’s faint, but new wrinkles were anything to go by.

Of course, pork cutlet was the chosen meal for the night, even with Viktor trying to tease Yuuri about his breaking of tradition. Yuuri replied that simply getting Yuri to revisit Hasetsu was an achievement.

“You seem to be enjoying it, Yura,” said Otabek teasingly. Yuri gave a thumbs-up in response, rolling his eyes.

“How’s your food, Otabek?” asked Yuuri.

“It’s great,” replied Otabek, his face blank. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much seafood in my life.”

“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be the fittest of the three,” chirped Viktor, “If I see any extra fat on my dear Yuris, they won’t be allowed anywhere near the ice for at least a week!.” Yuri was quick to flip off Viktor, before his hand was smacked down by a scolding Yuuko.

“Um… Otabek, sir…?” The triplets were looking up at the older man shyly. They flinched when Otabek quickly turned to look at them, although he did soften his face.

“What is it?”

A pause, then…

“Is it true you used to date JJ?!”

There was a sudden heave in the room, followed by desperate coughs. Yuuko and Otabek tried to help Yuri as he choked on his food, his face just as red from anger as it was from pain.

Viktor leaned over to Yuuri, “…Who’s JJ?”

Once Yuri could breathe, he grabbed Otabek’s shirt to prevent him from leaving as he glared over at the triplets, “What did you say?!”

“It’s the latest rumour in the skater fandom!” explained Lutz, “JJ was in an interview and he was talking about the skaters he used to train with.”

“But when he was asked about Otabek, he got all weird and quiet!” said Axel, “Like, he’s usually so confident! So, everyone thinks something must have happened between the two.”

“And the immediate assumption is romance?” Otabek looked bemused.

“Well… it’s a fandom,” shrugged Loop.

“How the hell are you so _calm_ about this?!” demanded Yuri, “Aren’t you disgusted?!”

“…Not really,” answered Otabek, “It’s not true, but…”

“…But what?!” The triplets leaned forward in excitement.

“Are you saying something happened?!”

Before Otabek could respond, he was dragged to his feet by Yuri and pulled towards the room he was staying in. Yuri didn’t even look at him until they were both sitting down on the bed, facing each other.

“You ain’t saying shit until I know what happened first.” At a raised eyebrow, Yuri blushed and looked away, “You can’t trust those girls. They see themselves as leaders of the skater otaku or some shit. If you tell them anything, they’ll tell the rest of the world.”

“…Really?”

“Well, they’re not that bad. But mostly bad. Maybe. Just… shut up, okay?! Tell me what happened! You never said you knew JJ that well!”

Otabek shrugged. “I already told you, we trained together for a while. In both the States and Canada. We went to school together as well.”

Yuri blinked. “Well, yeah, but I thought you weren’t friends. Like, you didn’t really speak at all.”

“We didn’t. But I think he thought we were friends.”

Yuri snickered, “Well, obviously. He has to take what he can get.” He felt much more relaxed now, although honestly, he wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so worked up in the first place. “So, nothing happened?”

“No, not really. ...I’m not sure if he'd even remember it.”

 _Oh god._ “What…?”

“…If I tell you we played ‘Spin the Bottle,’ can we leave it there?”

“Can we leave…?!” Spin the… did that mean they… Beka and JJ…?! “Leave it there?! Are you shitting me?!” A lump was growing in Yuri’s throat and he wasn’t sure _why,_ but it _pissed him off._ And for the cause to be JJ of all people…! If he saw the man now, he would probably strangle the guy.

Otabek looked away, pink dusting his cheeks, “Everyone else was drinking and dragged me in. I thought that I’d be able to get away with moving the bottle away from me, but…”

“But…?”

“JJ grabbed it and pointed it directly at me when it was his turn. Said he wanted to be someone's 'first' and I was the only one left.”

“…I’m gonna kill him.”

Otabek chuckled and patted Yuri’s burning cheek, “It was years ago, you crazy punk. If it helps, I punched him in the face once I was over the shock.”

“Hmm…” Dammit, it shouldn’t _have_ to help. Years ago, Yuri would’ve been happy to run with whatever emotion came through, but now, especially after such a trying season, he was becoming more aware of how much sense his actions made. It was moments like these, when he felt so… frustrated, angry, desperate… that were the worst. It was a reminder to how little control he felt nowadays.

“Yura…?” Otabek asked uncertainly, “What are you thinking about?”

Yuri couldn’t respond. Articulation had never been his strong point. He always fucked it up.

But as Otabek silently raised his arms, Yuri remembered why he cared so deeply about the friendship before him. He still didn’t fully understand what was so alike between them, but he was extremely grateful for the understanding it created.

Otabek’s arms were so strong and protective. Yuri wasn’t sure how he’d lived without them for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coaching and Choreographing can and often are done simultaneously by the same person, but while I think Viktor is a good coach for Yuuri, he would probably need more training before he branches out. He seems to be a natural at choreography however, which is why he's exploring that separately (I mean, I think usually the choreographer will visit the skater, not the other way around, but Viktor is stubborn to stay in Hasetsu this year.)
> 
> From what I understand, many Muslims in Kazakhstan are moderate and don't partake in all the religious practices. I do know a few Muslims who aren't very religious, but find comfort in the traditions from their culture. I'm not going to go into detail about Otabek's personal beliefs, but the image of the Katsuki family frantically researching Islamic practices in order to make their guest more comfortable is adorable to me.
> 
> Ice dancing totally suits Minami, imo. It focuses on rhythm based movement rather than responding to melody, compared to other forms of figure skating. A Boogie like his free skate would probably fit better in that regard.
> 
> The fact that Leo, Otabek and JJ are all hinted to know each other seriously intrigues me and I'm not sure why. Perhaps because they're all the same age. If they were training together (which could easily be the case) did they go to school together?! I will be so upset if there is no elaboration on this next season.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm being haunted. I got leopard print clutch bag for a present and I was invited to a club for New Year.  
> Called Tiger Tiger.  
> ...Please accept this chapter as a sacrifice.

“Hey, Beka, tell me which one looks better,” said Yuri, switching between two filters.

Otabek looked over the blond’s shoulder, puzzled, “…I don’t get it.”

Yuri groaned, “Just say if you don't give an ass! You’re worse than my grandpa when it comes to this shit.” He reluctantly put down his phone and picked up his skates. Viktor and Yuuri were already out on the ice, but Viktor had happily sent off ‘his boys’ for an extra-long jog.

 _"My boys,"_ he had said. Yuri could’ve punched him, but he had qualms about hitting the elderly like any decent person.

“Wait a minute,” Yuri spoke up, finally noticing Otabek was ready to move.

“I’ve been waiting a while for you, Yura.”

“I don’t mean like that.” Yuri abandoned his skates for a moment, ignoring the eye roll from his best friend. He kneeled before Otabek and started untying one of his skates.

“What are you doing?” asked Otabek, looking down at him apprehensively.

“Checking your right foot,” replied Yuri.

“…Why?”

“Remember when your coach had to call me because he’d spent the last few hours begging you to take a break from jumps?” Otabek stiffened, then looked away defensively. “Yeah, suck it.”

“Why does that matter now, though?”

“Because I know Viktor. He’s shit at noticing when someone’s overworking themselves.” Yuri removed the sock delicately and checked for any problems along the sole of his foot. There was some bruising, although that was to be expected. It was a surprise to no-one that Otabek was good at hiding his pain, but Yuri had learnt the small signals a long time ago. He pulled away once he concluded his friend wasn’t about to fuck his feet and ankles up.

He quickly put on his own skates and pulled Otabek closer to him for a training selfie. It was a habit every time he was at a new rink, otherwise his fans would go above and beyond trying to figure out where he was.

He groaned at the outcome, “For someone who doesn’t understand fucking filters, you are annoyingly photogenic.”

Even Otabek couldn’t resist a smirk at that, “I’ve been dragged into enough photos to know how to make others regret it.”

“Hmph,” Yuri glared at his image as he abused the blemish tool, “Not that you had a challenge this time.”

It took a while before Yuri realised exactly what he said. It took even longer for him to notice how… _annoyed_ Otabek seemed to be at that.

“Are you fucking with me, Yura?” Scratch that. He was pissed.

Yuri narrowed his eyes and pointed at himself. “Have you taken a proper look? There’s spots everywhere.”

“Where?”

“If you look closer, you’ll see them clearly, Beka.” Yuri turned back to his phone, embarrassed that he’d spoken so carelessly. Although, he supposed if he was going to run his mouth to anyone like that, at least it was Otabek.

He almost jumped onto the ceiling when he looked up again. Otabek was right in his face, his eyes warm but analytical. Yuri blushed heavily, infuriated and vulnerable, but his face was pulled back into position as quickly as he tried to move it.

It felt awful. Even though every logical voice told him he was being an idiot, Yuri couldn’t help but feel as if Otabek was about to laugh in his face, call him every word for ugly, say he was a-

“You’re a joke, Yura.” Yuri’s eyes widened; the phrase had sounded so much uglier and crueller in his head. “All I see are perfect features and amazing, clear eyes.”

“…But not clear skin,” whispered Yuri, defiant till the end.

Otabek chuckled and leaned closer, their noses touching, “Why would I waste my time with that? There’s so much beauty in front of me to focus on.”

\---

When the two walked out to the rink, Viktor and Yuuri were pair skating. Because of course they were.

“I’m surprised Vitya can even lift him up with that little arm muscle,” grumbled Yuri, leaning on the rink next to Yuuko. Laughter erupted from the ice as Yuuri slipped a little too far forward, causing his leg to bury itself between Viktor’s. In response, Viktor manhandled his husband so his arms were wrapped around his chest, held in place. Viktor whispered something as they moved forward together, eventually restarting their routine.

“Aw, but they’ve gotten really good, after two and a half years! Don’t you think, Yurio?” Yuuko grinned, refusing to take her eyes off the performance.

“I agree.”

“Did she ask you, Beka?”

“She didn’t ask for salt, but she got some anyway.”

“…Get your smart ass onto the ice, fucker.”

Despite the banter, Otabek immediately changed the radio channel from classical music to his and Yuri’s favourite internet station. The older adults stared in bewilderment as a distinctly punk tune echoed through the room.

“…Boys, what are you-?”

“Warm up,” they answered, as they glided around the married couple. Well, Yuri had only guessed. Otabek had a rather wicked sense of humour, especially when he was trying to cheer Yuri up. Perhaps it was a good thing he wasn’t into social media; Yuri was convinced that the Kazakh would destroy all skaters before they even touched the ice if he learnt the art of roasting.

“Ah, you have your fun.” Viktor’s smile was strained, “We’ll see how rebellious you feel like being after I’m through with you today.”

“You butthurt that we killed the romance, old man?” Yuri smirked.

“Not at all…”

Of course, Yuri had learnt well and good that Viktor never made an empty promise. The pits of hell opened as soon as the music was turned off, with Viktor in Satan’s chair.

“Start stretching, Yurio. I need to know exactly what you’re capable of before I create a choreography.”

“Yakov said he hasn’t confirmed you’re making me one!”

“He was being polite after he realised I already have two skaters on my list. Of course I'm going to to make your choreography.” Viktor raised an eyebrow, “After all, I think I managed your transition from Junior to Senior pretty damn well.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but followed Viktor’s orders as they went through various stretches, then moves. He tried to ignore the burn of embarrassment as he made mistakes at the most basic of levels. Although, he couldn’t help but admit that it was easier to get over the failures here, in Hasetsu. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the town, or that he knew for certain none of the individuals in the rink were laughing at him.

“Your spins are still very good, even if you’re not as flexible as you used to be,” concluded Viktor, as blunt as ever, “You could try learning new positions that test your balance further as a counter to that. You likely have enough strength to hold them.”

“Spins weren’t the problem, though,” mumbled Yuri, “Or the jumps.”

“Your jumps are still brilliant,” agreed Viktor, “They rarely faltered last season for reasons other than your confidence. Your legs have grown a lot, haven’t they? They’re probably the main reason your step sequences have become so clumsy.”

Yuri shuddered. Why… why did Viktor have to say shit like that with that _smile?_

“You haven’t lost it, you know. Once you’re more confident in your body, you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us,” chirped Viktor with a wink. Arrogant ass that he was.

Yuri was more than ready to take a break once Viktor moved on to talk to Yuuko. The retired skater was keeping himself busy, Yuri noticed. He remembered how often Viktor would drift off three years ago, once he’d gotten his potential protégés set on a task. Not to the point of neglect, but compared to this year, he’d been off in his own world more often. Perhaps this was the result of Viktor finally developing some social skills.

Yuuri came up to the teen and leant against the rink with him, “How are you feeling since you’ve been here?”

Yuri shrugged, “It’s nice to see everyone again, I guess.”

The older skater chuckled, “Dodging the question…? You've been in this country only a couple of days.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m joking,” Yuuri smiled, “You seem more relaxed. I’m happy about that.” He ignored Yuri’s growing blush to call out, “Otabek! We’ll be out of your way for a while if you want to rehearse your short program!”

Yuri grinned as Otabek nodded and signalled Viktor to start the music. _“Davai!”_ He sniggered at his friend’s unimpressed look, but tried to ignore the light feeling in his chest as the now-traditional thumbs up was given.

Viktor had been telling the truth; already, Yuri could see how much better the program looked when Otabek was performing it. He could also see why Yuuri wanted Otabek to have the space to himself, as he was moving ferociously around the ice. The curves were clean and Yuri could see the build-up of points in PCS, but it was rather dizzying to watch without warning.

“That’s meant to show his desperation to catch up with the other students,” Yuuri whispered. Yuri smiled as Otabek made his first combination jumps. God, he loved the Kazakh’s muscles. Watching him jump so high and far accentuated them beautifully.

As the music slowed, so too did Otabek. Yuri perked up at the piano notes; this was the homage to him, right?

His throat tightened as he watched the performance. It was uncanny to watch, since it wasn’t _Allegro Appassionato_ in a technical sense. Even Yuri couldn’t perform the original in the same way as his 15-year-old self and he was still considerably more flexible than Otabek.

And yet, it was still _him._ There was a visible grace that came to Yuri easily, but definitely wasn’t Otabek’s preferred form of figure skating. However, the slight mistakes in form barely registered to the blond because he was amazed that he could see himself at all. How…? What was he seeing? He thought he’d lost most of himself when his body matured, so what was he looking at right now?!

An audible gasp escaped his lips as Otabek performed his second quad. That… had been from _Agape,_ not _Appassionato._ A quadruple toe loop, with both hands in the air… One hand had dropped early to rebalance and Otabek had over-rotated, but the intention was clear as day.

It took Yuuri’s hand on his shoulder for Yuri to realise he was shaking. It wasn’t the first time Yuri had felt a message coming from Otabek’s skating, but this was the most direct he’d ever been. Even if it was intertwined with a telling of his own story, Yuri could hear him clearly.

_There is so much more to your skating than a petite figure._

_If I can represent you in my program, you can easily continue to present yourself._

_Don’t give up._

The second half of the program was a master class in building up to victory. Viktor was playing to all Otabek’s strengths. However, Yuri had been overwhelmed. Not with the message, but with the emotion behind it. Despite the bitter taste that they left due to his changing body, Yuri still held both of those programs close to him. His first performance of _Agape_ had been a failed attempt to inspire Viktor to return with him to Russia. _Allegro Appassionato_ had become a harsh but desperate plea for Yuuri to continue his career during the Grand Prix finals. There had been a love for the skaters present in his mind that his 15-year-old self had been too stubborn to admit.

Otabek wasn’t one to tread so lightly. He had taken that love and shoved it right into Yuri’s face, with no room for doubt. It was almost embarrassing to watch with friends in the room, let alone the knowledge that it was going to be performed to the public all season. It was disorientating, heavy on Yuri’s shoulders.

Yuri felt _amazing_ watching that kind of love for him being realised.

The program ended with Otabek’s head to the sky, his chest proudly puffed in triumph. Yuri gaped as he watched a bead of sweat trail down strained muscles on his friend’s neck.

“So!”

Both Yuris jumped as Viktor’s voice sounded behind them, the older man having snuck up behind them. He continued, “I think he’ll go far with that program! One of his most inspired pieces for sure, and I’m not just saying that because it’s mine!”

Yuuri smirked and pinched Viktor’s cheeks together teasingly, “With the amount of interrogating he had to go through, I would’ve been disappointed if it hadn’t been amazing.” He smiled at Otabek, who was farther off, being bombarded with compliments by Yuuko. The triplets were making noise on the other side of the room, scolding Takeshi as the four of them had missed most of Otabek’s performance.

Yuuri went off to take advantage of the empty ice, leaving Viktor with a silent Yuri. He ran a hand through long blond hair thoughtfully. “I miss my hair sometimes,” he mused, “We need to go shopping for some better products, though. Your hair is too dry, it’ll be a bird’s nest after every practice.”

Yuri hummed absentmindedly, causing Viktor to smirk, “What did you think of his performance?” he asked.

Biting his lip, Yuri hid his face from the coach. How was he meant to answer that? He was still trying to figure out how to explain his reaction to himself. However, replaying the memory in his head brought out an embarrassingly happy laugh. It was practically a giggle. Yuri burnt red.

Viktor’s hand tightened in his hair. “Yurio…!” Startled, Yuri looked up to see Viktor looking… fucking _elated._ “Yurio, you are too cute!”

“Huh?!” Yuri was looking over Viktor’s shoulder in bewilderment as the older man dragged him into a tight hug.

“I knew you two were close, but not that close! Ah, Yurochka, you’re so precious!” His voice quietened slightly so no-one could eavesdrop, “It feels great, doesn’t it? Your inspiration returning…”

“…Get off me, you ass,” muttered Yuri, pushing Viktor away. However, he couldn't help but agree with him.

He’d been inspired. That was exactly what happened.

And Otabek was to thank for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ is so annoying...! Why does he have to be so talented? Either he has to suffer or I do for anything to make sense.
> 
> Researching foreign school systems is also a pain. I hope I'm correct that it's possible for Russians to complete high school at 17 years.

The ice rink was where energy went to die. Yuri was more than happy to drag himself to bed, where he could half-heartedly scroll through his phone until he dozed off.

His selfie with Otabek had gotten the most likes out of his recent Insta photos, because why shouldn’t the world make him feel a little shittier today? The Hero of Kazakhstan must have the most patient fans on the planet because not even Yuri Plisetsky could get him to update his social media more than a few times a month. Yet, he would always get a decent amount of likes whenever something was uploaded.

Then again, Yuri hadn’t been exaggerating earlier. His friend looked _hot._ His jaw was like a knife and the asshat somehow managed the exact angle to make it glint.

He went through the comments, which were mainly filled with the thumbs up emoji and comments about their #bromance. Yuri had seen them a million times over the last two years. However, one message caught his eye.

**-leo-dela-iglesia-:** _nice to know otto’s still alive! :P good luck to both of you this season <3_

The fuck? Otto? What was this ugly ass nickname about?

“Beka!”

“What is it…?” Otabek’s head poked through the door.

“You know Leo de la Iglesia?”

“Hm? Yeah… we trained at the same rink for a while. He and JJ were a couple years above me in high school.”

“Okay…” Yuri’s face broke out into a grin. After Otabek’s reluctant confession regarding JJ, Yuri had tried to get at least a little more info out of him, with no results. Dammit, he wanted some dirt on the Canadian… especially since he was returning to the ice this season.

Early last year, JJ had suffered a bad injury when he collided with another skater during the warm-up. An athlete's nightmare... even Yuri couldn’t find joy from his devastation after realising he had to sit out a precious season.

But high school gossip? That was fair game. The shithead was still annoying and self-centred and honestly, Yuri was really fucking curious what high school was like for Otabek, especially as it sounded like half of the skating world had studied with him.

He followed Leo back and sent a message immediately: _I will give you pirozhki if you give me good info on JJ during high school_

The reply came soon: _whats pirozhki?_

Oh. Shit. …So much for making a new friend.

_nvm, i looked it up. looks good!! :)_

_haha, you cant get anything out of otto?_

Yuri pouted at the open door: _he’s telling me fuck all. says it’s the past and shit_

_ahhh… he and jj used to hang out a lot, i think_

_well, otto was in the russian squad and jj would force his way in lmao_

Yuri snickered. So, JJ never could make friends…

_but i dont think theyve talked since otto made friends with you_

Yuri blinked. Really? If that was true, Otabek hadn’t given any signal that he missed JJ: _Why?_

_i only heard jj’s side of the story, but i think he thought he had a lot in common with you_

_he told otabek and next thing he knows you two are friends and leaving him out of meet ups_

Wait… Yuri had a lot in common with JJ?! More like JJ had a lot in common with Yuri’s ass because he was full of shit! What the fuck?! The phone shook from the rage the blond had to hold back. He wasn’t throwing his phone again, he’d just got this one.

More importantly: _Me and Beka knew each other from years ago, though. We met at a summer camp._ Sure, Yuri didn’t remember, but that was irrelevant.

_omg beka that's cute. and huh. i dont think jj knows that. i thought otto pulled a regina on him lmao_

_i gotta go but come talk to me again lol. youre cool yuri x_

\---

Otabek was sitting up on his bed, working on a particularly trying essay. He hadn’t understood the post training plans since half were in Japanese, but he was aware Viktor was out drinking with a woman. He’d been invited, but everyone started laughing and repeating “Muslim,” causing the message to be lost.

Otabek didn’t mind. Alcohol was a pit of darkness when it came to calorie count that he could do without.

He could also do without the dog, who kept walking in and out of the room, sniffing around and whining.

“Yuri!” he called out.

“Yes?” answered two voices.

Oh, right. “I think Muffincheese wants to go on a walk!”

“Makkachin,” corrected Yuuri as he walked into the room. A loud snort was heard from upstairs. “He already had his walk today. He’s probably looking for Vitenka.”

“Okay… do you know if he will be back soon? This is distracting,” said Otabek, trying to keep the dog away from his laptop. He’d never really got the hang of dogs or cats… Yuri aside.

“Oh, how kind of you to agree to pick him and Minako up! I’ll get you the car keys. And a map.” Otabek raised an eyebrow at the awkward attempt to emulate Viktor, but he didn’t complain. A drive around the town didn’t sound all bad.

And, well, the drive was fine. The problem was what he’d been sent to collect.

“Bekaaaaa!” cried Viktor from the other side of the pub, “Over here!”

Otabek was hesitant in his approach. Viktor had his shirt off and the woman – assumedly Minako – was hanging off his arm, laughing hysterically at something or other.

It took all of Otabek’s balance not to fall over when she jumped up and clung onto him, “Ooh, he’s even more handsome than when I last saw him! Hello, Altabek!”

“It’s Otabek Altin…” he replied. “…Do I know you from some-?”

Viktor was suddenly on his feet and pulling the woman away from Otabek. His expression was surprisingly serious. “No touching what isn’t yours, Minako. That one’s for my boy!”

“…Excuse me?”

“Otabek!” Viktor kissed the Kazakh’s cheeks, his silly grin back on his face, “Otabek… Beka boy! On the ice, you… ah, it was so beautiful!”

The younger skater blinked, “You think…? You were scolding me the minute you started talking to me.” Still, to be complimented by the six-time World Champion…

“No, no, not you. I mean… ah, it was so cute! Did you see his face?! His eyes?!”

“Who? …You mean Yura’s?”

“Yes! Did you?!” Viktor bounced excitedly, his hands on Otabek’s shoulders.

“Not really, he avoided looking at me.” Otabek tried to peel Viktor off him, “It was only my second rehearsal. I hope that’s why he wasn’t very impressed.”

The smile dropped off Viktor’s face again. Otabek was lost for words as he had to grab on Viktor’s wrists to prevent him from wilting to the floor. What had gotten into him?

“Love is so cruel to us Russians…” he uttered sadly, covering his face once he was safely on his knees. Minako crouched down next to him, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Uh… Viktor-”

“Don’t talk to me!” huffed Viktor, “Not until I can trust you again!”

“…Can I take you back already?”

\---

Yurio listened to the tracks again, his head buried in his hands. Why did he have to do this? He had no idea what he was even _looking_ for.

“This is the first time you’ve had this much freedom choosing your own music, isn’t it?” said Viktor.

Yuri moaned glumly. It would be nice to get at least a little direction from Viktor. The music was a means to an end. While he did voice opinions about certain pieces, he was more focused on his choreography. He found it easy to separate each move in his head and figure out where he could push himself further or make a section cleaner. Musical elements just blended into each other and he would make do with it.

But Viktor was worried about his inspiration. Skating had become so bland and frustrating throughout the season. Even Viktor wasn’t so insensitive to voice it, but Yuri knew he hadn’t looked this unremarkable since he debuted in the senior division. His child prodigy status was now part of his shadow, not something that brought him to the limelight.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered. He felt the pressure of tears behind his eyes. He couldn’t see himself dancing to any of these pieces. Why couldn’t Viktor just come up with something and let Yuri adapt over time, like before?!

Viktor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Forget about the skating for a moment. Think of something else. An emotion or a memory…”

…Okay. Yuri could try that. Taking deep breaths, he racked his brain to try and find something. He thought of his family first. His grandpa, who hardly ever left the countryside nowadays. Yuri could understand, but he missed the endless calls of the old man, asking when he would next be in Moscow so he could pick him up at the airport. They were both older, meaning Yuri now held the responsibility to visit him, but he so rarely had the time.

His mother wasn’t very helpful. She’d barely fussed when he’d finally moved out after finishing high school. While he was more than aware of the difficulties she’d held as a single parent, her lack of contact hurt him much more than he’d expected. Yakov, Viktor and Yuuri had all played a part in filling her role when his grandpa couldn’t, but Yuri refused to ask too much of them. It wasn’t their job.

He tried keeping Otabek out of his head. Even though some of his best memories were with him, his chest and head would often hurt if the Kazakh was on his mind but nowhere near. Now was one of those times.

The hand tightened on his shoulder, startling him. “Yurio, I need you to _think._ How can I begin if you can’t even decide on the music?”

There was a tense pause as Yuri choked on his own breath. He _was_ thinking. He was going through hell trying to find something. Yet Viktor couldn’t even find it in him to-

Viktor swore as he was shoved off the bench.

“Who the fuck you think you are?! What do you think I was doing all this time for you?!” Yuri dipped his head forward to cover his eyes, his hands shaking with rage.

“Yura, are you-?”

“Just fuck off! I get it! I fucking get it, okay?! Leave me alone…!” His remaining expletives lodged in his throat. Yuri ran out of the locker room, ignoring Yuuko’s call of concern from the reception.

Adrenaline kept him going as he ran up the hill of Hasetsu, toward the ninja house. The place was closed by now, so he held faith that he wouldn’t be noticed as he sat against the back wall and let out every tear of frustration and fear he’d been holding back.

He told Yuuri long ago that a skater without inspiration was as good as dead. He knew he wasn’t lying because he had felt like a corpse during the last season. He’d skated because that was just what he did, not because he loved it or had anything to express. Every lacklustre applause and sigh of disappointment from Yakov only made the emptiness harder to bear.

When a skater grew bored of their program, they would make changes. It was a tedious, but straightforward solution. Yet, every attempt brought aches and pains that shouldn’t have existed. He trained religiously, had perfect control of his diet and kept good note of his abilities. However, a growth spurt or hormonal rush would send him right back to square one. He constantly felt like he was about to do some serious damage to himself.

The European Championship Final had hammered the last nail in his coffin. His mind had been blank as he skated, but that’d been alright. It was better than consistent reminders of how underwhelming his performance was. However, a well-practised triple Salchow had fallen off kilter, causing him to pull a hamstring.

He’d been taken to hospital for the injury. Everyone had told him he was smart to not keep going. It could’ve been much worse. It was within the last few seconds of the free skate; his score was fine. His bronze was enough to make Russia proud.

Yet, he couldn’t forgive himself. He hadn’t realised how bad the injury was because he hadn’t tried to get back on his feet. He’d _given up._ He’d never given up before.

He knew that he’d scored worse throughout the season. That moment was far from his lowest in the eyes of the public. But, that was the one time where his hatred wasn’t directed to his body, or his competencies, but to himself as an individual and competitor. It tore into him, even months later.

“Yura.”

Alarmed, Yuri raised his head to see Otabek standing in front of him. Where did he come from? How did he-?

“Yuuko called me. She wanted to help you, but she can’t leave her shift that suddenly,” explained Otabek, seeing the question in Yuri’s eyes. He smiled kindly, “She said you liked hanging out around here when you were younger.”

Yuri sighed and patted the space next to him. He eagerly leant against Otabek once the older skater had an arm around his shoulders. He couldn’t talk for now, which he trusted Otabek to know. He just wanted to forget about everything happening for a moment.

His head slipped down to rest against Otabek’s chest, allowing Yuri to hear his heartbeat. Yuri was struck with the memory of their first goodbye. He could remember how fast its pace was, since they’d been so caught up in the record store that Yuri had almost missed his flight. It had been a nice alternative to Yakov’s loud, hoarse scolding.

How was Otabek so patient with him? He couldn’t be comfortable here, with the wind repeatedly pushing a branch into his face and Yuri draped over him. Yet, Yuri knew he would stay for as long as needed for his best friend. He never felt pressured to repay or thank him for anything, although he knew he should do so more often.

Thank him... Yuri's eyes lit up. He could...!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groaned, leaning away from Otabek.

“Yuri, what’s-?”

“You’re so _annoying,”_ said Yuri. Shit, this was the second time within two days that Otabek had done this to him. Yuri’s season had to be amazing if he was going to pay him back for this. Viktor had better not fuck around with him this evening.

Otabek looked puzzled and offended. “The hell did I do?!”

“You fuck me up, Beka,” replied Yuri, pulling Otabek’s head to rest against his neck, “I fucking love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw a scene you wrote may have been influenced by the fucking opening song being embedded deep in your psyche and you're not sure if you'll ever escape...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is difficult to write outside of his own point of view...! He's very complex, but a lot of it is internal. Especially since after a few years with Viktor, I think he would be more confident and much better at hiding his anxiety from others.

Otabek sighed with relief as he pulled off his skates. He was starving; Viktor was having far too much fun comparing Otabek’s stamina to his husband’s.

“How’s your free skate coming along?” Said husband was sitting across from him, doing basic stretches.

Otabek shrugged, “It’s going well. Should be done soon.”

“Then you’re leaving?” Otabek nodded, causing Yuuri to smirk, “Not going to stick around for Yurio?”

Otabek turned away from him, “Well, I’m not going to push for the earliest flight or anything. But he’s here for you and Viktor and everyone else.”

Yuuri chuckled and winked at him, “Have you told him that? You two are inseparable.”

“…Right.”

Yuuri decided to join Otabek for lunch, as Viktor and Yuri were caught up in what sounded like a fierce argument. Although, Otabek mused, they were Russian, and divas to boot, so perhaps there was nothing to it.

Otabek began explaining his free skate after further prompting from Yuuri, “It’s somewhat based off the second part of a Kazakh fairy tale my mom used to tell me. The first part is in my SP. It’s about a shepherd and farmer living side by side. The shepherd loses his sheep to disease, but he is the closest of friends with the farmer, who insists on giving up part of his land so the shepherd can farm alongside him.”

Yuuri smiled, “That’s very sweet. So, who’s the farmer in your SP? You or Yurio?”

“Uh…” Otabek looked away, “I think… both of us would take on the farmer’s role if we had to.”

Yuuri’s face looked as if it was going to burst from his smile, “What’s the story in the free skate?”

“The shepherd finds a cask of gold buried in his side of the farm, but the friends can’t agree on who owns it. They bring it to a wise man and his student suggests it be used to create a garden for the poor to eat, drink and rest.

“The student takes the money to the Khan’s city to buy seeds for the garden. However, along the way, he comes across a merchant bringing hundreds of live birds to the Khan to eat and decorate with. He pities the birds and uses the money to buy and free them all.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, “That probably wasn’t the smartest choice.”

Otabek smiled, “The student realises the same thing by the time he reaches the planned garden. He spent all the money and the garden can never happen. He weeps and says aloud his deed, which one of the birds hear. Soon after, thousands of birds arrive to help the student by digging up the ground, creating pools of water and bringing rare seeds from all over the land. Merchants try to enter what is now a beautiful garden, but they are refused entry while the poor are given sanctuary and protection.”

“That’s a lovely story,” said Yuuri.

“When I was telling it to Viktor, it reminded me of how I felt when I saw the support I had from Kazakhstan,” continued Otabek, “Everyone told me to expect it, but it was overwhelming. If I’m going to use a more personal strategy for the season, I want to acknowledge those who helped me. My mother, Yuri and my country.”

Yuuri smirked, “That’s quite a lot of cards you’re putting on the table this year. What happened to the soldier theme?”

“You think I’ve forgotten that?” Otabek stiffened at the Yuuri’s cocky tone, “Treating the ice as a battlefield is how I’ve broken through into higher levels. But it’s not enough anymore. I want to _win._ ”

“Like you haven’t before?”

“It’s _different_ this year.” Shit, he shouldn’t let Yuuri get to him like this. “It feels different. This is the best chance I’ve ever had. I feel like I _should_ win this Grand Prix.”

Yuuri was silent for a moment, gauging Otabek. Suddenly, he burst into laughter.

“I see!” he leant closer, “Viktor’s retired, JJ’s injured, Yurio’s having difficulties and I’m getting older. Am I on the right lines?”

Otabek glanced away.

“Don’t look so guilty. We’re competitors. How can we compete unless we believe we can win?” Yuuri’s grin softened, although didn't entirely lean back. “For my part, you’ve underestimated me if you think it’ll be so easy.”

“I never said it wouldn’t be.” Otabek narrowed his eyes, realising that at this point, Yuuri was just playing up the friendly rivalry.

Yuuri was about to respond, but two figures burst into the café before he opened his mouth.

“Yuuri! How could you?!”

“The fuck, Beka?”

Viktor was standing at the entrance, covering his mouth in overdramatic shock. Yuri was strategically distanced from him, looking bemused and bewildered.

Otabek looked blankly at Yuuri, who played into the role immediately, “Vitya, my love! It’s not what it looks-”

“How dare you take shots at a rival without me there! How could you betray me like this?!” Viktor gestured wildly, “To look at someone with such a sexy smile… to keep that from me…!”

Yuuri straightened up and crossed his arms, pouting like a child. “You don’t own me! Why must you have this much control of my professional career?”

“Because I am your coach and I do it out of _love!”_ declared Viktor, “But I guess that meant nothing to you! Fine, we are through!”

Yuuri turned away dramatically, “Fine! Go to your next project, see if I care!”

Viktor suddenly turned and grabbed Yuri, who yelped ungracefully, “And I’m taking the child!”

Yuuri gasped and clutched his chest, “No! Not Yurio! …Then I will have the in-law!” There was an awkward pause as Yuuri tried to gauge his personal boundaries with Otabek, just to give up and sip his tea daintily.

Viktor swivelled on his heel flamboyantly and walked briskly out of the café. “Consider me a divorced man!” Yuri shook off the older man’s grasp and stormed out in the other direction, red from embarrassment.

Otabek silently went to follow the blond, deciding not to comment on the couple’s shenanigans.

\---

“I fucking hate them.”

“It’s wasn’t that bad…”

“It was awful.” Yuri kicked a fence, blanching when it turned out to be less sturdy than he’d assumed. “Take me shopping, Beka. I’m not going back to the rink today.”

“Uh…” Otabek hesitated. He hadn’t practised any jumps in the morning because he was planning to wait till afternoon…

“We need to go shopping while we’re here anyway. Did you see what they have?!” Yuri lightened up, convincing Otabek to be dragged along, “There’s some amazing fashion in some of these places! And a lot of it is pretty cheap!”

Otabek smiled. It wasn’t as if Yuri needed to save money anymore. He had plenty to support his family and live a typical celebrity lifestyle himself if he so chose. But, old habits die hard.

When it came to shopping, Yuri and Otabek were the worst combination. Yuri was ridiculously impatient and impulsive. If nothing grabbed his attention, his instinct was to rush to the next place. Otabek was more careful. He liked checking the material and quality, going as far to find reviews of the store if something he liked was on the pricier end. They often joked that it was the only time Otabek would be on his phone more than Yuri, if they weren’t arguing with each other.

“I’m not finished.”

“The fuck you mean, you’re not finished?! Either you’re buying it or you’re not!”

“But I’m not sure if I want it.”

“This is the fourth time you’ve looked at this shirt, idiot! Please, just decide, I’m dying waiting for you.”

“Go to the next shop, then. I’ll find you.”

Yuri whined, “Then I’ll be finished before you arrive and I’ll have to wait until you’re finished again…” Nevertheless, he did leave, heading for a larger shop so he’d have more to browse.

Otabek rolled his eyes. Yuri seemed to be in a much better mood compared to when he'd arrived. Finding inspiration through the theme of 'gratitude' must have helped, although Yuri was embarrassed to elaborate much on it.

It had been painful for Otabek to watch his best friend throughout the last season. The allegory of a soldier had become bitter and negative. Yuri had been a conscripted fighter; trying to survive day after day, but rarely having the drive or cause that had inspired Otabek all those years before.

Neither of them really knew how Otabek could help him. They didn’t have much experience with friends, after all. Otabek could listen, something he’d done often. But his words of comfort were often twisted or disregarded by Yuri. Otabek knew that was just part of puberty and dealing with a lowering self-esteem, but it had hurt.

His SP was built partly out of frustration of Yuri constantly changing his message. It had been embarrassing to even explain to Viktor what he wanted to do this season, but he knew it would be worth it. He’d never felt this much attachment to a program in his life. He was even looking forward to showcasing it to an audience, which was entirely new. Usually, he would try to ignore them as best he could. He knew this year would be different, for both him and Yuri.

He ended up buying the shirt. He eventually found Yuri going through the accessories section, a tiger print bandanna already in his hand.

“Don’t you already have-”

“This one is a nicer orange,” interrupted Yuri, “Look, this could be good for you.” He held up a thin pair of gloves, the turquoise colour like the flag of Kazakhstan. Intrigued, Otabek took off his black, fingerless pair so he could layer them.

He hummed, “They look good.”

Yuri grinned, “I’ll buy them for you.” He took the gloves off Otabek’s hands and quickly spun on his heel, leaving no time to protest. Otabek was left standing in front of the scarves, confused but grateful.

It wasn’t until they’d moved far from the clothing stores that Otabek saw a chance to repay Yuri. While his friend immediately gravitated to the skating equipment in the sports shop, Otabek perused through the helmet stickers. There wasn’t much that stood out to him as ‘Yuri,’ except for an interesting white tiger pattern. It wasn’t Yuri’s favourite design, but Otabek supposed that he couldn’t go wrong with black and white.

“What are you doing here?” asked Yuri, seemingly dejected that he'd been abandoned.

Otabek presented the sticker to him. “Do you want this for your helmet?”

Yuri blinked, lost for words. Otabek waited patiently, aware that Yuri hated being caught stuttering. “…But it’s your helmet.”

Otabek smirked, “You’re the only one who wears it. It’s yours.”

“Still,” replied Yuri, “…No thanks. It’ll look stupid.”

“You think that, Yura? I think it fits your style.” Otabek knew Yuri didn’t believe it. He also knew the gaudy design wouldn’t look stupid if Yuri was wearing it.

Eventually, Yuri turned away, sighing, “It’s meant to be plain. Like… when we first met.”

…Oh. Otabek lightened up as he realised Yuri was simply being nostalgic. He supposed he could see where Yuri was coming from. For Otabek, 'rescuing' Yuri been a stressful moment. He still cringed at his blazon entry and awkward delivery. Surely, if it had been anyone else, they would have immediately identified him as a creep and ran off in the other direction. Otabek could only thank God, that Yuri was the way he was.

“I’ll buy this for you, anyway,” decided Otabek, “You might change your mind.”

“Hey!” Yuri gaped as Otabek slid past him toward the check out, “Beka…!” Yuri leapt forward, gripping onto Otabek’s hips.

Otabek’s eyes widened as he lost his balance and fell back against Yuri. A year ago, they would’ve likely crashed onto the ground, but now, Yuri could withstand his freind's weight. Otabek felt warm breath on the back of his ear and a tense thigh pressing against his own leg.

Otabek lost track of time for a moment as he tried to regain his bearings. It wasn’t long enough for Yuri to pull the sticker out of his grasp, but Otabek was lost, trapped against Yuri’s warm body and strong arms.

Yuri’s growth spurts were unmissable. Even now, Yuri would occasionally poke fun at their reversed positions, with Otabek now the shorter of the pair. However, Otabek wasn’t prepared for the change in strength and size. Yuri no longer felt like a delicate pressure on his back as he rode through the streets of Barcelona. Yuri was a man who could easily match Otabek in a game of strength. Perhaps even manhandle him, if Otabek was willing to give in.

Otabek refused to continue down that train of thought. He shoved Yuri off him, possibly too roughly. Face burning, he moved briskly to the checkout. Yuri seemed frozen in place for a while, but he followed Otabek out of the store with no comment.

Eventually, the awkward tension was resolved and they continued their impulsive shopping trip. However, it wasn’t until they were back in Yutopia that Otabek realised how distracted he must have been. He didn’t recollect buying a good number of these clothes.

He avoided Yuri for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Magic Garden of the Poor' is the Kazakh story Otabek is referencing. I would recommend checking out the full, detailed version. It's very heartwarming!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, shit, I am so sorry for the wait! Exams are such a pain!

Despite having visited Hasetsu a few times over the years, Yuri had never spent much time talking to Pork Cutlet’s ballet teacher. There were reasons, or course, such as her penchant for alcohol and fangirling. Perhaps, it was also intimidation. This was the woman whose teachings had brought music and life into Yuuri’s skating. She was loud, assertive and demanding, yet she had managed to utilise all of Yuuri’s talents and make him one of Japan’s finest skaters.

The first time Yuri arrived in Hasetsu, he’d been arrogant, boisterous and unwilling to fully recognise his limitations. He may have gained some modesty after his competition against Yuuri, but he’d ran away to Russia immediately. He knew there was a reason Yuuri hadn’t invited him to the apparent sanctuary that was Minako’s ballet studio. However, this time, he had insisted for both Yuri and Otabek to try at least one session.

Neither of the boys were happy about this, but there were benefits. Yuri planned to go by his usual routine, designed to help him retain what flexibility he had left. Lilia had been sure to leave him that, at least. Otabek, meanwhile, was practising his ‘grace’ for the Yuri section in his SP. Honestly, Yuri wasn't sure if it was entirely useful to him. It was obvious from the music and performance that Otabek was taking on a different character in that moment. Clearly not ‘prima ballerina’ level, but it would get the interpretation marks.

Of course, Viktor was a perfectionist. Yuri and Otabek would’ve been idiots to try and convince him that any aspects of their performances were _good enough._

Although, now that they were in the studio, Yuri was sure that even someone without a trained eye could tell that Otabek was far too tense. Minako was certainly gentler than Lilia. Her corrections to Otabek’s figure were made without a word, but they were encouraging. She wanted him to relax. By contrast, Yuri was left to his own devices. It was most likely because she had no idea how much better he had been before. Lilia would’ve been appalled at how little effort he was making.

Yuri was doing what he needed to do. Bar stretches, a couple minutes for each leg… he no longer panicked when his body resisted what had once been easy for him. He hadn’t started any routines yet. 

Otabek was considerably ahead, learning a ballet version of his own short program. Yuri watched in intrigue, fascinated by how Minako had adapted Yuri’s old free skate into something Otabek could perfect in the studio.

He didn’t notice the teacher’s sharp eyes on him until it was too late.

“Off your phone, Yuri.” Yuri glanced down at the now blackened screen. Right. “Come and learn the routine as well, if you have nothing else planned. It might help Otabek.”

Yuri made a big show of rolling his eyes and getting up from his straddle split, but he didn’t mind much. Not when Otabek flashed him a soft, grateful smile…

“How do you usually train, Otabek?” asked Minako, filling the silence, “Yuuri told me you quit ballet years back.”

“I did,” confirmed Otabek, “I use yoga to train, mostly. And mixed martial arts.”

“Which you _still_ haven’t shown me,” reminded Yuri, pouting. He remembered his excitement when Otabek had described some of the moves that built up his agility and muscle strength. He really wanted to see them! Even if he usually forgot to bring them up until it was too late.

Yuri started practising his old routine. It was a good distraction from the hungry eyes Minako was now directing at Otabek. He went back to the dance Lilia had made for him for his senior debut, which had later been translated to the ice. It was the first time in over a year that he’d practised it.

There was still a pang in his chest every time a leg didn’t stretch out far enough or he felt a painfully familiar strain in his back. But, this was for Otabek, right? Yuri was dancing for him, so it didn’t matter if he wasn’t as good as he used to be.

Thinking along those lines convinced Yuri to place more focus on what he knew were Otabek’s strengths. Specifically, his jumps and arm movements. He knew his own jumps were improving. It was the only thing that had kept him going throughout the season.

Yuri had managed to reach the podium only in the Russian Nationals and the European Championships, although the latter was marred by his injury. He was considered fully recovered by now, two months later. Although, Yakov had put off confirming it, worried his student would immediately return to overexerting himself.

To be fair, his concerns had been sound. Yuri had indeed started pushing himself to his limits to catch up for missed time. But in Hasetsu, it was more difficult. If it wasn’t Pork Cutlet, it was Yuuko or Otabek giving him grief. He was still embarrassingly conflicted regarding Otabek’s threat to carry him off the ice by force, if Yuri ever went too far for everyone’s comfort.

A jumping figure caught his eye. Otabek was on the other side of the room, returning to his practice. Had Yuri been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed he was no longer being watched? Minako seemed to have temporarily left the studio.

No, Otabek was still looking at him, adapting the movements. He seemed more relaxed with just the two of them present.

“Drop your shoulders, idiot,” called out Yuri, taking a much-needed break. Now that the novelty had worn off, Yuri could see that Otabek wasn’t quite as graceful as he’d first appeared. However, Yuri was certain that he could still see his own form and that Otabek would be fine with a little more practice.

Otabek joined Yuri on the floor not long after and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Yuri tilted his head.

Otabek shrugged, “You don’t look very happy.”

“Soldiers aren’t meant to look happy,” shot back Yuri.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but smile when Otabek chuckled, “If you say so, Yura.”

\---

It was only when every muscle in Yuri’s and Otabek’s bodies were screaming for rest, that the boys dared to finish the session.

It was unusual for the pair to travel in a car, mused Yuri. It had become tradition that they rented a bike together whenever one was needed, even if they had to discuss through facetime or snapchat. Yuri was always very upset if Otabek went on ahead without him.

However, Hasetsu was too quiet a town for a loud, aggressive bike. Otabek could be an attention hoe at times (he wasn’t nearly as bad as most of the other figure skaters, but there was a reason his bikes weren’t particularly subtle or quiet), but it wasn’t worth the risk scaring the fisherman off the bridge.

“My free skate’s going to be done within the next few days, I think,” said Otabek.

Yuri blinked. “Really? Viktor still has me and Pork Cutlet to deal with at the same time.”

“I think he’s going to get me out of the way first,” explained Otabek, “Once I’m finished, he can focus on you two.”

Yuri ignored the throb in his chest at the reminder that Otabek wasn’t staying much longer. The conversation drifted away, apart from the small curse when Otabek realised that he’d been driving on the wrong side of the empty Japanese roads for five minutes straight.

Otabek immediately retired to his room when they returned to Yutopia. Yuri scowled and followed him. If Otabek was going to imply shit about leaving soon, he was spending time with Yuri now.

Otabek took out his laptop and went through his emails, not complaining when Yuri sat next to him on the bed. “How's uni going, Beka?”

“Shit,” replied Otabek. Yuri scoffed and wrote some obligatory updates for his fans on his accounts. Otabek wasn’t a talkative man in general, but his mechanics degree seemed to piss him off beyond words. Once the semester was done, he could rattle for hours: something Yuri was often the target of. However, Otabek’s response to stress had always been silence.

It was also his reaction to anger. Or irritation. Or sadness. Otabek was quite annoying that way.

“What about you, Yura?” spoke Otabek, “You finished high school, yes?”

“Yeah. I’m on gap year, now.”

“You know what you’re going to study?” Otabek pulled out a half-filled notebook.

“Nope.” It was probably late to get into many of the top universities for next year. However, Yakov reasoned that Yuri could potentially bribe his way into a good place if he decided to study in September.

Otabek nodded and returned to his work. Yuri sighed and rested against him, lazily following the quick movements of typing fingers. The sound was almost entrancing and Yuri relaxed against Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek didn’t seem bothered even though his left arm couldn’t move as smoothly. He eventually stuck to mainly typing with one hand, to make Yuri more comfortable.

It took a while for Yuri to realise that one page of writing had turned to four. He must have been snoozing. Shit. He hadn’t drooled, had he?

Otabek smiled when he saw Yuri had awoken and placed his laptop to the side. “You okay, Yura?”

Yuri hummed and immediately claimed the warm space on Otabek’s lap, left by the heated laptop. Otabek untied Yuri’s hair from an unforgivably tight ponytail and massaged his friend’s head slowly.

Yuri had just been about to close his eyes again when he was rudely interrupted.

“Boys!” Viktor stormed in with a determined look on his face, “Got some… oh?”

Yuri shot up from Otabek’s lap. Shit, he really didn’t need-

“Am I interrupting something?” Viktor was smirking. _Fuck._

“Is something wrong?” asked Otabek, calmer than how Yuri felt.

Viktor’s smile softened and he sat opposite the pair, showing them a rough mess of notes and codes. Yuri scowled. He still wasn’t very good at translating the abbreviations for jumps and spins into a workable choreography. He knew he had to learn if he ever wanted to make his own. It was how Viktor had been able to create record breaking programs, after all.

Otabek understood them fine, Yuri knew. However, he’d had to spend more time than most skaters to train effectively for each individual move. He could thank his decision to drop ballet for that. However, unlike Yuri’s ambition to create his own programs, Otabek was happy to let someone create the choreographies for him, to the point that he rarely tampered with them.

“Yurio...! Hello?”

Yuri’s eyes darted away from Otabek’s features to look at Viktor. Right. “What?”

Viktor didn’t make any comments before returning to business, “I’m going to place the combination spin at the end of your SP. Your ending position will look better as a finisher than if it was at the end of the step sequence.”

“How does he end?” asked Otabek.

Viktor moved to a more spacious area of the room and demonstrated. Off the ice, it looked overdramatic, with one hand held high in the air. The other rested on Viktor’s ankle, which dragged behind in a kneeling position.

“From a spin to that? Fuck off, Vitya,” huffed Yuri.

“I’ll show you tomorrow, it’ll looks better,” replied Viktor. There was a noticeable flare in his eyes, so Yuri refrained from continuing to insult his work.

Otabek perked up, apparently noticing the tell-tale waft of food coming from the corridor, and stood up, “Did you want to talk to me too?”

“Right, Otabek! I-”

“Tell me tomorrow,” Otabek waved him off, “I’m starving.”

Yuri grinned and gave an appreciative thumbs-up. Viktor blinked in surprise, but didn’t seem offended, “Well, call your coach once you’re full. There’s a few things I need to ask him.”

Otabek turned back, not having expected that request. “My coach? Why would-?”

“I’m starving too!” Viktor clapped his hands and bounded past an unimpressed Otabek, “Yuuri made the food tonight. I love it! He’s the best cook in this house!”

“Bullshit,” argued Yuri. While in the same house as Pork Cutlet’s mother? No way.

Viktor poked his head back around the door just to give the boys a quick wink, then left again. Otabek raised an eyebrow at the coach’s antics and waited for Yuri to stretch out before getting up.

“And you thought I was lying when I told you Viktor is a fucking dork,” teased Yuri.

“I never thought you were lying. I just… never saw him like this for myself before,” said Otabek. His features softened as he considered his next words. “He’s very happy. Happy to be in love.”

“Yeah. It’s disgusting,” muttered Yuri.

Otabek gave him an unreadable look It took a while for him to ask, “…Wouldn’t you like to feel that way, sometime?”

Yuri scoffed and walked out. He’d learnt a while ago that Otabek was a romantic, deep down. Yuri’s response would either insult his friend, or be so sappy and embarrassing that Yuri wouldn’t be able to look Otabek in the eyes ever again.

Something sappy like, _I only know what it’s like to be in love._

\---

Viktor sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. Was this really the time for a creative block? The notes and poorly drawn stickmen mocked him, refusing to form into a satisfying choreography.

Perhaps, Yuuri had a point when he’d advised against working on six programs simultaneously. It hadn’t seemed daunting at first. Also, it was rare for Yakov to even imply that he needed help, so for him to practically beg for Yurio to go to Hasetsu… Viktor _had_ to agree.

Otabek was the least of Viktor’s concerns. The boy talked to his coach regularly and always had some new ideas to pass on. Viktor didn’t regret inviting him over. It was nice to know more about the person who Yuri held so close to his heart. 

It had been awkward for a while, before Yuri had arrived. Part of it was the stardom barrier; Otabek had been nervous to fully engage with either Yuuri or Viktor.

Yurio wanted ‘gratitude’ to be his theme for his next season. That was fine, easily workable. But, it needed to be constructed carefully. Viktor recalled the trapped feeling that came with puberty all too well. The sense that at any moment, it could all come crashing down. Viktor didn’t want that emotion to intertwine itself into the programs. Yurio needed to skate from a place of freedom and escape. How else could he hope to do well this year?

And Yuuri… his ambition was different this year. Brutal. He wanted to push himself as far as possible, possibly over the edge. At 27 years, Yuuri no longer feared his retirement. He was facing the possibility head on, ready to go out with a bang.

Yuuri needed to stop taking this many cues from Viktor’s career, honestly.

Like Yurio, Viktor wasn’t happy with his previous season. He’d once again found little joy in competing. His comeback year had been exhilarating. Not only because he’d had Yuuri by his side, both as a fiancé and rival, but because his success had been a surprise. Many had assumed that taking up coaching had ruined his body, due to lack of training. Viktor had Yuuri’s ability to easily pick up moves from watching to thank otherwise.

He’d managed to claim what was his sixth Grand Prix medal, but it had seemed for a while that it would be his last. Yuri had managed to beat him in both the European Championships and Russian Nationals. Viktor himself had believed it for a while. His body simply wasn’t functioning as long or efficiently as before.

He’d taken much of this season off. He hadn’t even turned up in the Grand Prix, deciding instead to focus on getting Yuuri at least one gold before it was too late. When Yuuri admitted that his stamina was also beginning to fail him, it had sent Viktor into an anxiety he’d rarely felt throughout his career.

In the end, his final medal had come from this season’s Nationals. It fitted well; Viktor’s career ended where it began. As a complete surprise, in his motherland.

Then, the aftermath of his retirement hit.

It had been Yuuri’s idea to return to Hasetsu, even before Viktor had made his choice to further explore choreography. Viktor had been _miserable_ in St. Petersburg. Outside of coaching Yuuri, he had no idea what to do there. Sure, he and Yuuri would go on dates, but when Yuuri needed a rest in, Viktor didn’t know how to live.

Viktor had found life and love in Yuuri, but also in Hasetsu. Yuuri’s family, the Nishigoris, Minako… they had all played a part in helping him enjoy himself like he’d never experienced.

“Viktor?” whispered Yuuri from the doorway, “You’re still working?”

Viktor looked up, startled. How late was it? Did he keep Yuuri up?

Yuuri walked in and hugged Viktor from behind, kissing his shoulder softly, “Are you okay?”

Viktor gave a shaky smile, but stayed determined. “I will be. I’ve just… I’m fine.”

Yuuri smiled back and gave Viktor a small squeeze, “Next year, I’ll be able to help you properly. I know I’m burdening you with my choreography.”

_…This again._ Viktor shook his head and patted Yuuri’s hand. “No, you’re not. Is this about your inspiration? You want to go out with something memorable and exciting. That’s enough to work from.”

“It’s not.” Yuuri’s voice was steadier than it used to be when he would get into these moods. Viktor obliged to leave his desk so they could face each other, sitting on the bed. “All of my performances are meant to be memorable. That’s how I win. I’ve given you nothing.”

“You’re inspired to finish on a high note,” Viktor winked, “I can work with that inspiration, no problem. If you had lots of ideas for me, but couldn’t find it in you to connect with any of them, then we’d have problems.”

Viktor took Yuuri into his arms, “This is you at the halfway mark, isn’t it? I’ll meet you there and create the best choreography of your career. Just let me get through this backlog first, babe.”

Yuuri groaned and rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder, “I still regret telling you that analogy.”

“No, you don’t, you love when I use it,” teased Viktor. He looked back at his desk, but Yuuri’s grip suddenly tightened and he refused to let go.

“Yuuri…”

“Work on the backlog tomorrow, you’re sleeping now,” Yuuri’s face hardened, although concern was evident in his eyes.

Viktor sighed and fell back on the bed with a small huff. Yuuri could turn off the light himself if he was going to be like that. Viktor buried his head in the pillow, barely acknowledging the mattress dip behind him.

He did notice when quick fingers buried themselves into his side, tickling mercilessly. Viktor yelped, then covered his mouth to prevent waking anyone up. Yuuri chuckled fondly into his ear, his breath warm and comforting, “Relax, Vitya. Goodnight.”

"Night, love," Viktor hummed as Yuuri’s arms moved up to rest on his waist, their bodies pressed together. Although Viktor had improved considerably regarding emotional support, he was still blown away by Yuuri’s ability to read the situation. His dear husband always knew exactly what to do.


End file.
